Is there somewhere I belong
by Nerdy Rainbows
Summary: Russia knew it would be hard to convince people he had changed but he had just enough of it. That was before the younger nation had actually talked to him, someone he had never noticed. Now he will hold onto the boy no matter what it takes. RusCan
1. Introduction

Hi there~ Rainbow here. I don't have much to say at the moment. So well enjoy ^^

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><p>Ever since he could remember it had been this way. No one ever noticed him. He was invisible to the whole world. Why? Was it because he was always compared America? Was it because he was quiet, didn't start fights unless it was the last option, because he didn't boast and gloat about his victories?<p>

One day he was promised to be protected by France. All the older country really wanted was to compete with England who had America. Soon he was in England's hands forgotten by France. Then, nobody recognized him at all. Not s a country, not as a _person_.

Neglected, Ignored, Deceived. He knew all these words too well. He kept going though, no one would break him down, no one would make him give up.

But for what?

All the sacrifices he and his people had made. No one remembered them like they remembered the rest. He was the seconded largest country in the world and the most forgotten.

All he needed was some one to acknowledge him. To show him some respect. To show him some care.

For a time he thought he had known what love was, until that one day when the countries asked him "who are you anyways?" It had been right after Vimy Ridge. The battle where he had taken that huge land mass form Germany in World War ll.

His own father, his own brother all the people he thought were his friends had asked him who he was. As far as they could remember they had just met him that day. That's when he realized that he didn't know what love is. Nobody loved him and for a time he wouldn't have admitted it but he didn't love himself.

I mean sure he had Kumajiro, his best and only friend but sometimes he wished he had a human friend. Some one who he could be himself around, a person who would look at him like he shined.

For now he was alone. Over the years he had gained allies and rose to power just to be forgotten. Constantly reminding them of he was.

He was Matthew Williams.

He was Canada.

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><p>Was he really that scary? If he was he really didn't try to be. Latvia, Estonia, Lithuania were always so tense around him. Ukraine had left and Belarus pestered him less about becoming one nation.<p>

He always knew he had it. That darkness inside his heart was always there, coming to the surface to many times to count. It gave him such ferocity, hate and anger. It made every one cower in fear; including the people he would never even think of hurting.

He usually got his way because of this power. It gave him a sense of power and triumph and…pride. Why pride anyways? Pride in scaring the people you love most? Pride in hurting those around you?

He was so lonely. An ache in his chest was always there when he woke up. The coldness that rested inside him chilling his body to the bone. It was more frosted than the winter air that danced around freely in his country.

He was always in his standard winter gear trying to warm himself up. The thick base scarf Ukraine had given him. It matched perfected with his long trench coat and briefs.

Nothing warmed him up though. Not the hearth of the fire, the warmth of his bed or the hot showers in the morning. It was always so lonely too. No one ever stuck around him unless they had too. It was always a quick discussion being overlooked with pure fear.

He felt hate swirl inside him. It was so unfair what they did to him. He was big and tall with the same strength as fifteen men. It frightened them that he could break a bone so easily. At first he would never have hurt anyone with his power unless he was at war. He would of only used it to protect those who were dear to him.

But now the bitterness had rose and he would not open himself up to anyone anymore. He had tried so hard before, to get to know his people and his friends and family. Now he just stayed alone, away form people.

For he was Ivan Braginski.

He was Russia. The one who was even colder than the Siberian winds.


	2. One:Noir

This is really short but whatever. I'll try and make the next one longer but I felt the need to at least post something... Hope you enjoy~

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><p>He sits there a hand to his mouth. Fresh blood splatters his palm dripping down in slowly. He smiles a bit menace clearly showing how much he was going to enjoy making them all pay for what they had done to him.<p>

The man leans his right elbow on the armrest of the wooden chair tapping his finger against his own cold skin. He coughs a bit into his hand more blood gurgling in his throat. Forcing the red ooze back down with a swallow he admires the empty room around him.

Behind him he hears the door open slightly. Straightening up a bit he doesn't dare turn around. The grin that was once spread on his face had now turned into a grimace. Why was _he _still here?

"Ivan…" The light voice broke his chain of thought.

"You came to get your belongings and that's it. Now _leave_." Ivan growled a bit taking his hand away from his mouth.

"B-but–"

"LEAVE."

Ivan heard the door slam closed behind him. Now able to relax the Russian slumped down in his seat closing his eyes. He always felt this way after the fact of scaring people. The emptiness the questioning of why he couldn't control his anger.

Ivan used to enjoy the look of fear people gave him as they passed by. The nervousness and obvious fear had made him happy. Now…now he felt so empty. How should he feel?

Sighing he hauled him self out of the chair leaving for the exit. It was only a matter of time before his wounds got affected and Ivan knew that he should treat them soon. He had let them sit for too long.

Swinging to the left the nation headed up a set of black stairs holding onto the smooth textured banister for support. His steps were heavy and sluggish over taken by his tired self.

Ivan hadn't slept in at least three days, which had left him with dark purple rings under his eyes to match their colour. He went into the washroom, which was directly in front of the stairs. A mirror hung off the left wall surrounded by a white paint job. On the wall opposite to it hung several cabinets where various toiletries and what not were stored.

The Russian opened one of the cabinets up and brought out a first aid kid. Holding it close Ivan made his way down the hall turning into his room. He sat himself down on the bed scoffing. Setting the medical kit beside him, he opened up and took some bandages up and put them on the fluffy duvet.

Quickly the nation unwrapped his scarf and took of his white long sleeved shirt. He put a hand on his shoulder feeling the scratch marks on them. Shaking his head Ivan picked up the bandages and began to work on his wound.

He thought back to when he had given himself this injury. He had been full of hatred and confusion at the time unsure on how to take it out. It ended up that he had scratched his skin right off leaving the pain to settle in a bit.

Done bandaging the wound Ivan held his head in his hands hair placing itself in between his fingers. He should really try and get some sleep. The first day of the G8 Summit was being held tomorrow and he needed at least some strength.

Russia set the medical kit beside his bed climbing under the covers. He lay his head down on the soft pillow closing his eyes waiting to drift sleep.

Though that night sleep wasn't necessarily the best option. For the Russian's night was full of heart breaking nightmares.


End file.
